CHAPTER SEVEN: This is how things stand

The sight is peculiar, to say the least. Trees are torn and felled around them, great oaks and cedars defaced with scratches and blood. There is a creature, lifeless and battered yet still formidable. It has a large, arched spine, almost cat-like but with a thick hind and mass of black fur. Its sunken eyes stare off into the fast approaching sunset, body twisted at an odd angle.

Next to it stands a girl, feral and bitter. Her black curls are raging down her back and there are tears stained into her dusky skin. She's wearing men's clothing, darned and splattered with dirt from the battle. There is blood under the fingernails of the hand that holds a sword and blood oozing from a gash in the other arm. Her face is cold as she points the blade definitely, fresh with gore from her last kill, at someone who once meant something to her.

The other man stands awkwardly, unarmed and equally as affected by the battle. He watches her warily, breath hitching at the sheen of the blade.

"Put the sword down, Gwen." His arms are raised in defeat and he captures her eyes solidly.

She is panting, but doesn't move an inch.

"I'm not your enemy, Gwen." He tries, taking a step closer.

"DON'T." She snapped, jolting the sword forward. "Just don't."

He dropped his eyes. "It's funny; you're the last person I'd suspect that would save my life."

She wavered, her sword arm wobbling now. "What's that supposed to mean?" she spat.

"Nothing!" He countered. "It's just I thought you'd want my head on the chopping block after…" he faded out, not looking at her.

She soured. "I didn't know who I was rescuing." She sheathed her sword now and looked off into the distance, searching for the horse. It was a castle horse, used to bloodshed. It can't have gone far.

"You're bleeding." Lancelot stated, eyes drawn to the wound in her arm. He crossed the distance between them and she flinched at his touch. "Let me clean it up."

She drew away, finally spotting the horse in the distance. "I don't think that'd be a good idea."

"Please." He begged, fingers curling around her tensed arm even as she turned away. "You received this wound on my behalf, the least I can do is bandage it."

She stood stiffly, tears threatening to fall again. She just wanted to get her horse and go. Go and sort out this horrible mess, go back to Arthur.

He felt her arm relax in his hold and he gently led her away from the body, picking up his sword and checking her horse was following as he went along. She was crying faintly now, relying on him for support. He followed the river away from the clearing and set her down on a log.

He tethered her horse and retrieved his bag, working slowly and deliberately as if he were savouring every moment in her company. She sat on the log ignoring him, even when he sat next to her and gently cleaned her wound. She tensed until the bandage was finished, raising a hand to brush a thumb over the handiwork.

"Thank you." She replied and her voice didn't conceal her gratitude. She was calmer now. There was a pause where Lancelot collected firewood, more for need of something to do rather than the impending darkness. She didn't move from the log the whole time, choosing to watch him work, not trusting her legs to hold her.

"What are you doing out here, anyway?" Lancelot finally said, throwing a lump of wood onto a mismatched fire and now setting about trying to light it. The darkness was closing in now.

She inhaled sharply. "I could ask the same of you, Lancelot."

He bristled at the cold way she said his name, but chose to humour her for the sake of conversation. "After leaving Hengist's castle, I chose to wander the forests in hope of settlement and work. I've been working with the creatures of the forest in order to keep my blade in use."

"So that creature you were fighting was just a test to you, it did no actual harm." Her voice ran with venom.

"I overestimated its strength, it was stupid of me." Lancelot pressed, agitated now.

"It was." Gwen responded, deadpan.

"Thanks again for saving me."

"Sure." She sighed, accepting the mug handed to her. She looked into the dreggy hot drink and sighed deeply. This was not good.

~o~

"You're not going to die, Arthur." Her voice echoed and he was confused. He was dying? "I'm telling you, 'Cause -" she spoke again, and he knew he was dying. There was a searing pain from somewhere he couldn't quite locate. His breathing was laboured and his head was flush with fever.

"I know that one day, you will be king. A good king." He focuses again on the voice. He knows that voice. Does he know that voice? "That's what keeps me going." There is a presence at his bedside, but it comforts him. His fingers twitch as her hands cover his.

"You are going to live to be the man I see inside you, Arthur" her voice is ringing through his head, and there is a thumping in his ears, as with the other dream. He realises, that's his heartbeat, this must be a dream.

"I can see a king who'll be fair and just. A king who everyone will love and be proud of" her voice is fading and he calls to her to keep talking, to help him live, but he doesn't even know her name…

"So for the love of Camelot" she concludes and he is struck with the fear that she will leave. She screams "YOU HAVE TO LIVE!"

Arthur shot up, eyes flashing. But there was no woman by his bedside. There was no pain and he wasn't dying. His head thumped and his bed clothes were sticking to him with sweat.

The Crowned Prince eased himself out of bed and poured a glass of water, raising it tenderly to his lips. For a moment he considered confiding in Merlin about the dream, about this constant feeling something was missing, but he rejected the idea almost immediately. Clambering back into his bed, he lay there for a while, trying to make sense of it all. He fell asleep soon after with her voice vibrating through his mind.

~o~

It was very dark now, and for the first time that day Gwen betrayed herself by being thankful for Lancelot's company. The fire was needed and she didn't feel at risk, at least he could defend her. They had withheld a necessary silence. It was awkward for Lancelot, but Gwen found she couldn't care for pleasantries at this point.

Finally, he spoke. "I don't regret leaving. I believe I did the right thing."

She doesn't even have to ask, because both of them know. "Why did you leave, Lancelot?" Her voice is dead. She doesn't make any effort to look up from her now empty mug.

He sighs. He expected this. "I left because some things can never be."

She snorts. "I know that, Merlin told me." He winces at the friction.

"I admit I took the coward's way out, but it would have hurt too much to say good bye in person."

She laughs, harshly. "Oh, it would have hurt too much, would it? Where did it leave me? With shattered promises and memories." Her voice is so bitter, his heart pains.

"Why are you here, Gwen?" He tries again, keeping the distance between them as he remembers the sword fastened to her hip.

"It's none of your business." She resigns, without a second though.

"Why are you running away from Camelot?" His brain whirrs now and he finds himself rising to his feet, hand on sword. "What did he do?"

"What did WHO do?!" She shies away from him, looking confused.

"Arthur!" Lancelot spat, eyes now filled with hatred "What did he do, I thought I made the right decision leaving you to him!!"

"You what?!" Gwen yelps, leaping to her feet.

"That bastard. I'll kill him!!" Lancelot flares, punching at the air. "How dare he hurt you! He must have hurt you. I can't believe he would!"

Gwen gapes open mouthed. "You left because of Arthur?!"

He catches her expression and he softens immediately. "Of course, the affection was apparent between you two."

"But-" She tries to absorb this information, still staring at him.

"He's a prince, Gwen!" He justifies, to her incredibility. "He could offer so much more than I could! I would not come between you."

"He could offer nothing, Lancelot." She glared. "He could offer nothing because he is a Prince. Whereas you -" She started and he took a few hasty steps back despite the fire separating them. "You could have given me a home, a family! You could have stopped me from thinking 'what if?'"

He pauses. "You thought about me?"

She gives a cry of rage. "Of course I did! You rescued me, you promised me so much then you just left! I care for Arthur, I always have done but nothing can happen between us."

He looks at her darkly. "What did he do? How did he upset you?"

She deflates then, sinking back onto the log. "He hasn't done anything." She replies, her voice soft now, barely audible.

He sinks down as well, but stiffly, a hand on his sword hilt. "Then why are you running?"

She looks at him then, eyes swimming with emotions. "I'm not running. I'm doing an errand for Gaius."

"This far out?" He counters, spreading his arms wide to indicate the area around them.

Guinevere looks away. "I didn't question it."

He nods slowly, but something is eating at him. He tends to the fire, prodding it to no avail. "So, you and Arthur?" He treads.

She stares into the fire, watching the flames. "I won't deny I care for him and believe he does so for me."

"Beyond the bounds of propriety?" Lancelot presses, infused now.

"Perhaps." She responds dully. Stolen moments flicker through her mind, as that feeling he gives her flutters in her chest. She longs for him.

Lancelot sinks back, knowing that's all he'll get on the subject. He can't shake the feeling something has happened between them, but he sinks back all the same.

"And your affections for me?" He finds himself asking out of no accord of his own.

She looks at him, just looks at him and he knows it's over. "Are best left to die, as you have already made it quite apparent nothing can happen between us."

He flinches at her proper tone and responds with more malice than intend. "Spoken like a true Queen."

A/N I'm not sure i did Lancelot right =/ I never paid too much attention to him, he annoyed me. Anyway, thanks for all your support so far, I really appriciate it!